


Poem: The Ugly Duckling

by PhantomSpade



Series: Fairytale Horrors [11]
Category: Den grimme Ælling | The Ugly Duckling - Hans Christian Andersen, Original Work
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Fantasy, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fairy Tale Retellings, Horror, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Neglect, Other, Poetry, Self-Esteem Issues, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-18 22:05:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18127076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomSpade/pseuds/PhantomSpade
Summary: In the original tale, the titular baby bird was shunned for his "unattractive" appearance by his "fellow" ducks and other animals. He spent a long time enduring the mistreatment while harboring self-loathing for not being a normal duck. But in the end, the "ugly duckling" turned out to be a beautiful swan and found his place with his own kind. Too bad the characters who tormented him didn't get any comeuppance...But this isn't the case in this dark retelling.





	Poem: The Ugly Duckling

**Author's Note:**

> The Ugly Duckling (c) Hans Christian Andersen

_There was Mother Duck, lying in her nest, awaiting_  
_for the arrival of her little hatchlings. Her warmth_  
_contained love and hope for her children to be born_  
_in the world; no hatred nor despair for them._

_Yet, that was about to be changed._

_A bump against her rump roused her out of her trance._  
_It was time! Her newborns were about to hatch!_  
_She had waited for this day: the day that her_  
_beloved children were coming to the world._

_Five eggs in her nest were coming to hatch._  
_White shells began to crack; bits flew off_  
_one by one to reveal a tiny duckling beneath_  
_the hard yet fragile casings they were born in._

_Four precious ducklings had emerged, while_  
_the fifth was still bursting out of its egg._  
_Mother Duck and her children watched and watched_  
_until the milky shell shattered away like glass...._

_Only to reveal a sight that shocked many cores._

_This "Duckling" resembled little of his siblings;_  
_his feathers were dark instead of bright, beak_  
_slender and long, his body larger than average._  
_He looked too different, too strange._

_In short, he was the ugliest little bird Mother Duck_  
_and her other children had ever laid eyes on._

_Mother Duck was perplexed. Why was her youngest_  
_"duckling" so...so ugly? She was at a lost and so_  
_were the other ducklings. The "duckling" was_  
_oblivious to their inner disgust and confusion._

_But it was only a matter of time before the whole_  
_barnyard caught wind of his existence. It did not_  
_take long before the other animals voiced out_  
_their cold honesty of the "duckling's" oddity._

_It did not take the "duckling" to become accustomed_  
_to the pain everyone had inflicted on him._  
_He did not understand at first, why their eyes were_  
_filled with disgust at him, nor why taunt him so._

_But realization had struck the young strange bird;_  
_it was his unusual appearance that made him a_  
_walking personification of shame and filth._  
_"Ah, so that is why." Is what he had concluded._

_Loneliness, he had felt. Sorrow, he had felt._  
_He was the anomaly amongst the flock, and_  
_they had always made clear of their animosity_  
_through harsh taunts and jeers of his appearance._

_“You are a duckling? You are more like a deformity!”_  
_“Your beak is too pointy!” "Your feathers are dirty!"_  
_"You are too gangly!" "You are nothing but ugly!"_  
_And the "Ugly Duckling" had agreed._

_His siblings had never looked at him as one of their_  
_own. Neither did Mother Duck, who was filled_  
_with regret for birthing such an "ugly duckling"._  
_She had only turned herself away from him._

_"That thing is not my child. He was never meant_  
_to be. I should have cracked him before he_  
_hatched. He has no chance of being beautiful;_  
_he will remain an ugly little thing."_

_The little “Duckling” was soon filled with shame at_  
_himself. He thought that it was his fault he was born_  
_so ugly, his fault for walking and breathing the air he_  
_did not deserve. He was a mistake._

_The bitter winter had arrived, and he had left the barn._  
_It was no longer his home; his family had never_  
_accepted him as one of their own. The rejection_  
_was too much to bare._

_In the cold woods, he was met by a flock of ducks_  
_not like the family he used to have. It was relief_  
_they did not feel repulsed by his "ugliness". It was_  
_a shame that he did not exist among them._

_The "Ugly Duckling" wished he had felt grateful for_  
_their ignorance. Yet, it was apathy in disguise._  
_No insults, no sadistic jabs, no glares of disgust._  
_Yet, it did not dilated the pain he had gained._

_Then one day, the "Ugly Duckling" had to flee._  
_Hunters had arrived. The sounds of gunshots_  
_rang throughout the woods as his fellow flock_  
_met their death. He was the only one to be alive._

_Homeless he was. The "Ugly Duckling" was_  
_getting used to the cold depths of solitude._  
_But even the silence had treated him like_  
_everyone else did: like a disgusting creature._

_Then he stumbled onto a quaint little farm. Quite_  
_different from his original, yet it was so different._  
_Wintery winds bit his whitening feathers and_  
_growing neck; this would be his new shelter._

_"But who could accept me, a bird so deformed_  
_that every eye is averted to shield themselves_  
_from my ugliness?" The little bird cried out his_  
_own laments at his own "unnatural" appearance._

_The "Ugly Duckling" had long stopped seeing_  
_his own reflection. He no longer wanted see_  
_the deformity that he was, that he was_  
_mocked for. He could not stand it._

_But he had no other choice. He could not survive_  
_on his own any longer. He might as well_  
_face whoever lived upon his new potential home._  
_And so he waddled into the barn._

_A human. An elder woman with a frail body and a_  
_kind smile stared at him with sympathy. The_  
_"duckling" was not used to such kindness,_  
_even from a human. It was so strange._

_"My my, you are a strange-looking duck. But_  
_yet, you look very thin and cold. Come in,_  
_come in so you will be safe. You poor thing."_  
_Pity seeped from her voice. Pity she had felt._

_Lucky little bird, it seemed. The old woman did_  
_not turn him away and offered him a home._  
_Yet, her smile was devoid of warmth and_  
_her sympathy resonated with hollowness._

_At least there was fire. At least there was bread._  
_Though he was once again left in the shadows,_  
_the "Ugly Duckling" was no less grateful for_  
_having a roof over his head._

_He was already used to having no love._

_As he had found out, the old woman was not alone._  
_A cat, spiteful and heartless, became aware of_  
_the new resident in his own home. To him,_  
_the strange bird would be his new plaything._

_The sneers came. "What is this ugly little thing_  
_doing in my house? You are too repulsive to be_  
_my meal! Grandma has made a mistake letting_  
_you live here! You will get no love from her!"_

_Then came the beatings. The "duckling" would_  
_find red stretches marking his almost white_  
_feathers, fang marks scattered over his long_  
_neck and legs. Deserving for an "ugly duckling"._

_The "duckling" thought that he would endure it._  
_He stayed for the sake of having a home, having_  
_at least one person who gave him the care he_  
_needed, yet without any real love in it._

_But the old woman never noticed nor cared of_  
_the pain the Cat inflicted on him. The Cat had_  
_never stopped his sadistic joy of playing with_  
_the "Ugly Duckling". Not even for a minute._

_Once again, he decided to flee. On a sleeping_  
_night, he had made his escape. The old_  
_woman and the Cat had already forgotten_  
_about him by the time morning greeted them._

_Once again, homeless. Lonely and loveless._  
_How many times did he had to flee? How_  
_much time past since his journey begun?_  
_How many times was he rejected?_

_Far too many. Far too much._

_Honking. Suddenly, he heard honking. He_  
_was near a calming river, and he saw a_  
_gorgeous flock of birds swimming:_  
_they were the swans._

_The “Ugly Duckling” thought that it would be his death._  
_The swans were one of the most beautiful birds he ever saw;_  
_he, a “duck” whose looks were repulsive in everyone's eyes,_  
_would deserve to die in the wings of the snow-white beauties._

_And so, he had thrown himself into the row, under the belief_  
_that the swans would slaughter his entire ugly being...._  
_But yet, it did not come. There was no pecking, no tearing,_  
_no shouts of hostility and sadistic taunts that would come._

_With opened eyes, he was made with a sight that he had_  
_never witnessed in his entire life: the swans were looking_  
_at him, but with warmth and amicable will, rather than disgust._  
_Or even pity or apathy like the rare people he had met._

_What was this? Why were they not attacking him?_  
_Why were they not hurling insults at him?_  
_Why were they looking at him like he was...._  
_Like he was something to admire?_

_He looked down. He saw his reflection for the_  
_first time. But staring back at him was not_  
_the "Ugly Duckling" that he had known. Not_  
_even a duck: he was a beautiful swan._

_White as snow, neck long and slender like_  
_his beak. Yet...he was a marvel like the swans._  
_Was he never a duck? Was he something so_  
_beautiful that he had never known it?_

_"Who is this creature staring at me? This is..._  
_this has to be a dream." The "Ugly Duckling"_  
_could not imagine he was looking at himself:_  
_this was not a creature of ugliness._

_Birds of beauty gave him the compassion he had_  
_yearned for very long. "Fellow swan, it is not a_  
_dream. You are not something so repulsive; you_  
_are a magnificent bird. You are something beautiful."_

_Words were not false. They held no malicious_  
_lies. They were the truth. The "Ugly Duckling"_  
_was never what he was called since birth:_  
_he was a beautiful, alluring Swan._

_"But...But I was told all my life that I was an_  
_ugly creature. That I did not deserve love from_  
_anyone." The Swan was crying; he was overwhelmed._  
_The kindness made him warm and alive._

_It made him feel that he was no longer alone._

_The swans could only smile at him in reassurance._  
_"My my, you did not deserve such torment from_  
_the ones who have poisoned you with their words._  
_Come with us: we will pay them a visit."_

_The Swan and his flock soared the calming waters,_  
_feeling alive and well for the very first time._  
_Who would have thought he was a diamond_  
_instead of a lowly little pebble all this time?_

_It was the farm. Bad memories only emerged_  
_from the Swan's mind. The old woman's_  
_apathy, the Cat's bullying, it brought him_  
_pain. He wanted to get rid of it._

_Brief sorrow was felt when he discovered the_  
_old woman had long passed over. But it was_  
_alright. The Cat was the one who deserved_  
_punishment; that he would deliver._

_The Cat was oblivious, older and colder, yet_  
_so lonely without the old woman. The swan_  
_flock did not hesitate to advance on the feline._  
_Punctured, leaking blood, lying in death._

_The Cat had paid his price for his torment._  
_Now came the vengeance to his family._

_The farm had only changed very little since_  
_the Swan had exiled himself. Cold, hard,_  
_lonely, painful....It would be eradicated._

_The flock spread. The animals who had_  
_hurt the Swan in his youth were receiving_  
_punishment. Blood and screams were shed._  
_His family were saved for last._

_The Swan could only smile, even at the terrified_  
_expressions of his own mother and siblings._  
_"Well, Mother," The Swan said, "I was never the_  
_Ugly Duckling you have known and cast away."_

_Even with a splash of metal red against_  
_pristine white, the Swan remained beautiful_  
_as he was meant to be. No one would ever_  
_shun him again; that he would be sure of._


End file.
